From Whence You Came
by LitLover 101
Summary: Requested One-Shot for Sherman Sam. S4x01. Re-written scenes. Eighteen-year-old Hope Mikaelson returns to New Orleans, to save her father, who has been held in captivity by Marcel for the past sixteen years. What will she find? Who will stand against her? Ft. Caroline Forbes and Marcel Gerard.


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The **__**Originals**_**. That would be Warner Brothers, Julie Plec and the usual suspects. **

**Hello, my lovely readers. This is just a little something Sherman Sam asked me to whip up in my mental cauldron. Hope you like it! On with the show…**

_**From Whence You Came: **_

Every minute. Every hour. Every breath. In. Out. Every little shift in the wind. A footstep forward. Two back. History. Past. A repeating loop. A refrain for those who were lost. For those who still cried out but no one could hear their crying. Silence. Deafening. Heartbreaking. Soul shattering. Leaves swirling along the dark ground. A full moon. A wolf's cry for its sisters and brothers. A vampire's midnight snack in the alley, creeping out before scurrying off. A witch looking in the mirror and seeing another's face. She's come home.

As if every living thing in the Quarter had been awaiting her arrival, they bow and scrape and press their lips tight shut. Never beg for forgiveness, for mercy, for acknowledgment. For her wrath can be a terrible thing. Her love transcendent. Her name leaves an echo behind on the ears. Hoooppppppeeeeeeee Mmmmmmiiiiikkkkeeeeeaaalllsssooonnnnnn.

Eyes snapped to and fro, the girl's black heeled boots snap along the path. She strides along alone. She has left her friends and love behind. This she must do on her own. This is her burden. Her wish. Her dream. This is her home. He is her responsibility. And facing his prisoner. Well, that's her problem, too. After all. They are family.

The gate is closed but with a wave of her wands and a decompression of her lips, it opens, as if waiting for her, all this time, and the time is now. A little smirk. A smirk so much like the man she is looking for crossing her scarlet lips. She's not even aware of how much like him she is. But she sees him in her dreams. All his beauty. All his cruelty. And she loves him. It is a love that defies time. When he is gone, she will love him still—until they are reunited, a long, long time from now.

Heart beating in her chest, she feels excitement and a tiny prickle of fear. She does not fear for herself. She fears for those who might try to stop her. She fears she will be met with the resistance of someone she once loved. And she will have to end them.

However, she is resolved. Hope must find him. She walks through the house. So many, many memories. She has the maps from City Hall. She knows where the tunnels are. She knows where the secret tunnels that City Hall knows nothing of, are. Her uncles told her. Her aunts told her. Her mother told her. She could have gone directly to where he is hidden away like a dragon's loot. Instead, she chose to come here first. She needed to remember her home.

Hope's feet lead her to her father's room. It is through this very room where she will go through what should be a wall and through a tunnel to find that same man. Or not. He may not be a person she recognizes anymore. He might be weak and frail.

Hope shakes the thought off. She has a mission. She has a plan.

~0~

Water drips from above his head. A rat nibbles at something that used to be food before Klaus took it and threw it at the wall, six months ago. Hope has nothing to worry about. Niklaus Mikaelson is not weak and frail. He is mad as a hatter. He talks to his long dead friend. He watches the man who he raised come down to gloat over another victory. The man who helps aid and abet said son in the crime of keeping his father prisoner move about the room, strengthening the spell to keep Klaus here.

"You brought this on yourself, Klaus," Vincent says as Klaus mumbles recriminations at Camille. "She didn't want this for you. To be locked up like an animal. She thought you could be good. I don't know why." Shaking his head, Vincent continues to his task.

As the years crept by, Vincent stopped looking Klaus in the eye. Klaus suspected that Vincent, with his lofty ideas of right and wrong, has begun to wonder if he is doing the "right" thing keeping Klaus here. One day Klaus plans on ripping the witch's head off his body. Then Vincent can be with Cami. She needed a friend. No matter what she said, she seemed lonely to Klaus. Or, perhaps, it was because she was only a manifestation of his subconscious, made whole by his losing the tender grip he had on sanity. The thought made him laugh and smile.

Vincent looked up and dusted his hands off. "One of these days, Klaus, we're never going to have look at each other." He got to his feet and moved to leave.

"Oh, Vincent. You have no idea what I intend to do to you. One of these days," Klaus replied, his voice echoing around the space. Then he began to laugh.

Seeing Vincent's back stiffen, Klaus felt amused as Vincent made his way out of the area.

Still chuckling to himself, Klaus relaxed and closed his eyes. "Klaus. Seriously? Threatening that witch? Is that the only thing you think you should be doing right now?"

"Go away, Caroline," Klaus muttered, pressing his fingertips into his temples. She was the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Oh, no, buddy. I am not going anywhere." A pair of hands came down on his shoulders and Klaus' eyelids popped out. His eyes met the warm blue color that made his jaw set. The pressure of her fingers in his shoulders made him weak.

"Is this real?" Klaus asked, his voice shaking.

"No. I'm not here. I am in Europe. Trying to help my girls. And you. What are you doing?" Caroline glanced around the area with a look of disapproval. "You're here. Rotting away. Because… You had a fight with your son? Hmm? Because you acted like your cocky Original Hybrid self and pissed one of the people who love you most in the entire, big bad world, off. Am I right so far?" Her brows went up and a little smirk played on her lips. "You know what you should be doing?"

"Killing those who keep me here?" Klaus muttered, his eyes going to his hands.

Caroline lifted his chin with her fingertips and shook her head. "No. You should be trying to get Marcel to free you. For Hope. She's all grown-up. She's exactly what you hoped she would be. She's so smart. And pretty. Our kids are friends."

"Really?" Klaus felt a genuine smile on his face.

Caroline grinned back at him. "Yes. There is so much for you to see. Come to the school. Help me. Be a father to your daughter. All you have to do is ask for mercy from your son. You've done your time. Ask for your freedom."

"It's not that easy, Caroline. He hates me," Klaus felt his throat close.

"No. He doesn't," Caroline whispered. "Just make him understand."

"All right." Klaus nodded. With a struggle, he made his way to his feet. When was the last time Marcel allowed Klaus to feed on human blood? A week? A month? Longer? He could not remember now.

As if on cue, his son came through the gate. "Klaus, you're standing up. Feeling better?"

Marcel's mocking tone made Klaus want to strike out but he wanted to try what Caroline suggested. "Marcel, I have been here long enough. You need to let me out."

"Nah. Why would I do that? Vince just secured the boundary spell. He'd be pissed if I asked him to come down and undo all this work." Marcel moved to stand outside the boundary and placed his hand on it. "See? Good work." He smiled and Klaus could feel his patience waning.

"Marcel, let me go," Klaus said as slowly and as clearly as he could.

"Or what? You'll take away one of my toys? Give me a stricter bedtime?" Marcel shook his head. "What are you going to do, Niklaus Mikaelson?"

Letting out a growl, Klaus lunged forward, his hands slamming against the boundary spell.

Of course he couldn't break through, but Klaus felt a sense of shock when he found Marcel was not standing there anymore. A young woman in a pair of jeans and a hoodie stood before him. Her wide eyes had gone wider. Whatever she had been chanting stilled on her lips. Her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head.

"Hope?" Klaus could only stare at the girl. Surely he must be losing his mind.

"Daddy?" Hope cried.

"How? But Marcel was just here…" Klaus backed away, settling on his haunches and drew his shackled arms to his face, crossing them in front of his face so the image of the girl he so desperately needed to see would dissolve before him. "You are a fantasy. Or a nightmare. You are not real."

"I am! Dad! Look at me! I'm Hope Andrea Mikaelson! You named me! I still have the painting you made for me before I was born. It hangs above my bed at the dorm." Hope offered Klaus a watery smile. She looked so much like her mother in that moment.

"Hope?" Klaus shook his head. "You have to go. Before they find you. They'll imprison you, too."

"No. They won't," Hope said. She placed her hands back on the barrier spell and began to chant, again.

"Hope, please, listen to me!" Klaus pleaded. "This is not the place for you to be! Forget about me! Live your own life! Be happy!"

"No!" Hope snapped. "Now, stop talking so I can concentrate."

"Concentrate? On helping a prison break? I don't think so." Marcel appeared on the other side of the gate before opening it.

Klaus groaned. Hope turned to face Marcel. So this was real. Marcel was here if Hope could see him. Or, perhaps, this was all fake. More fantasies to keep Klaus warm at night.

"Marcel, don't try to stop me," Hope snapped.

Marcel shook his head. "Who's stopping you? Go ahead." He waved for Hope to keep going. "Glad to know that Mikaelsons conned some poor kid to come down here and do their dirty work. When you can't get past the wards, then I suggest you leave New Orleans and don't come back. Otherwise all the enemies of the Mikaelsons might be on your tracks."

"I'm not afraid of the Mikaelsons' enemies." Hope turned back to the barrier. "They should be afraid of me."

"Big words for a little girl," Marcel retorted.

Hope cracked her neck muscles. "You'd be surprised what little girls can do when they grow up. Especially when they have a family like mine. Leaves me with a lot of anger issues to work through. And I like to channel that anger at times like this." Opening her mouth, Hope let out a scream.

Klaus and Marcel clamped their hands over their ears as Hope screamed and the walls shook. "Hey, Witch Girl! You're going to bury us down here!"

Hope closed her mouth. "And? Not like it'll kill any of us." She glanced at Marcel whose eyebrows went up and something seemed to be dawning on him. "Oh, I'm being rude. I forgot to remind you of who I am. Hope. You might remember me. After all, I am your sister." With a snap of her fingers, Hope caused Marcel's head to twist to the right and he dropped over. "Right. Let's see what we can do about these truly hideous accessories my big bro has you wearing these days."

Stepping inside the circle that Klaus had lived in for the last sixteen years, Hope came to kneel before her father. At first he resisted her attempt to touch him. "Hey. It's okay. I'm real."

Klaus stilled and allowed Hope to place a gentle hand on his own left wrist. She placed her hands on the manacles and they fell away. "See?" Hope watched Klaus closely.

For a moment, Klaus could only stare at Hope in wonder. Then he reached up and took hold of the end of one of her curls. "I am so sorry." He pushed himself forward, throwing his arms around her. "I am sorry I missed it all. You're entire childhood."

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault," Hope said, cradling her father. The parent-child reversal was not one Klaus intended on dwelling on right now. He would simply enjoy the warmth of his daughter's embrace.

~0~

When Marcel woke up, Hope kneeled over him. "I am taking Dad back to Mystic Falls. You're not going to stop me. And I am not going to kill you. The killing. The betraying. The feuding. It stops with me. Do you understand? We are family. And this." Hope waved a hand at Klaus who was nursing a blood bag. "This is not okay. Whatever our Father has done to you, he might have deserved a lot of things, but this is not one of them."

Standing up, Hope looked at Marcel as Marcel rose to his feet. She waited for him to try to attack, to fight her for the spoils of war, but he did not make a move. "One day I'll come back. And I hope that we can know each other." Turning, Hope went back to collect her father.

"This is what he taught me. Mercy is for the weak. If I let him go. They would have come for him," Marcel said. "Believe it or not, I was protecting our family."

"And punishing our dad for hurting you," Hope retorted as Klaus got to his feet. "If he deserved to punished, don't you think he's lived through enough. He missed my entire childhood. You played a role in that."

Marcel's mouth opened. Then it shut. "He's poison. He'll infect you, too."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll make him better." Hope held onto Klaus and moved toward the gate.

"Like I couldn't," Marcel said quietly.

Stopping, Hope looked at Marcel. "He loves you, too. I could see if when he thought I was you. Love can stop wars. Putting down your weapons. Just stop. Please."

Klaus and Marcel looked at each other and Hope could see the deep shame in both of them. She meant what she said. One day, she would be back. She did want to live her life carrying a grudge. She wanted to mend her family. Right now, she needed to mend her father. "Good-bye, Marcel."

"Good-bye, Hope. See you again. One day," Marcel replied.

Making her way through the gate, the tunnel and back into the moonlit street, Hope watched the look of awe on Klaus' face as he lifted his eyes to the first sky he'd not seen in years. "We're going home, Dad," she promised him.

"Home?" Klaus nodded numbly. "Home is wherever you are."

With a smile, Hope helped her dad down the street as the wind whispered in their ears and the nightlife continued. No one dared face the girl whose eyes glowed and fangs flashed a sharp, sweet smile.

_**The**__**End**_

**Thank you reading, faving, following and reviewing. **

**Peace,**

**-J**


End file.
